


Show Me

by thelookyouredoingthelookagain



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Awkward, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Sex Dream, Sherlock Knows Something Is Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:43:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29910243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelookyouredoingthelookagain/pseuds/thelookyouredoingthelookagain
Summary: You have to dream before your dreams can come true.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 71





	1. On Sherlock's Chair

**Author's Note:**

> All works here were produced by two friends in the fandom. One writes as SH and one as John, and we edit together. Our characters are based on the BBC's Sherlock, though we don't mind playing a little loosely with canon and the occasional AU. We have whims and like to follow them. While we like to torture our boys with constant misunderstandings, we know they belong together and we always see to that.
> 
> All posted works are complete, and we hope there will be something for everyone. We've got quite a few stories, and we invite you to get lost in them.To keep up with our new stories, please subscribe.
> 
> Thanks for reading and for being a great community!  
> 

"You were brilliant," John said as he hung his coat. He looked over at Sherlock as he came into the flat, smirking at John's comment. 

"You didn't think I was going to solve it," Sherlock said as he sunk down into his armchair. 

"I did not think that," John protested. He noticed Sherlock raising his brows. "Okay, fine, maybe for a second. But honestly I didn't see how you were going to connect everything together."

Sherlock smiled wider. "You always see, John. You just don't observe."

John raised his own brows now, approaching Sherlock's chair. "I observe more than you think I do."

Sherlock shifted in preparation. "Like what?"

John straddled Sherlock's legs and sat in his lap, slowly opening the buttons on Sherlock's shirt. "Like . . . the way you were staring at me instead of Greg when he was talking to you about the arrest."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "He’s boring."

John dragged his fingers over Sherlock's nipples, grinning at the sigh and soft moan. "You also stood close enough to press your arm against me while you explained your train of thought."

"Small . . . office . . ." Sherlock said, blinking his eyes open to meet John's. 

John leaned in. "Now you're just talking nonsense," he said.

Sherlock smiled. "How much more nonsense do I have to say to get you to kiss me?"

John grinned and closed the space between them, their tongues meeting immediately as desire coursed through them both. Sherlock bucked up and John rolled his own hips, moaning into Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock gripped John's hips for a moment before moving to start opening John's jeans. 

They shifted until they both had hands on each other, stroking, kissing, and breathing together. It was hot, sensual, and John could hardly think straight. Sherlock swiped his thumb over the tip of John's cock and he gasped -

He gasped and opened his eyes, still panting softly. The covers were tangled in his legs as if he'd been attempting to kick them off for a while. He was sweaty but still, quiet. He was listening hard for any movement in the flat. Had he called out? Had he talked in his sleep? Where was Sherlock? Did he hear anything?

When his mind cycled through every horrible possibility, he sighed and stared up at the ceiling. It was a dream, that's all. It was normal, wasn't it? It didn't mean anything. He closed his eyes as his mind replayed intimate details from the dream - the feel of Sherlock's skin under his hands, the taste of his mouth - no. No! He had to forget it. Sherlock would notice it in a second if he didn't get it together.

He got out of bed and stretched, shaking his whole body out. He just needed to shake it all out, that's all. He would go downstairs and they’d head to Scotland Yard and everything would be fine. Normal.


	2. Not Normal

“Why aren’t you being normal?” Sherlock asked as they walked up the stairs to that flat. He didn’t know what was going on with John – he wasn’t sure if he should ask so he hadn’t. But they were just at Lestrade’s office and John was not himself. Sherlock thought even Lestrade had noticed. This was not acceptable: Sherlock needed John at the top of his game when it came to work. 

"What? Of course I'm being normal," John said. He didn't look at Sherlock as he took off his coat. "That sounded like an interesting case Greg was telling us about." 

Sherlock was unlocking the door, but he turned back to look at John. “Really?” he asked. He turned to step into the flat. “We both know that’s not true. You don’t have to tell me why, I suppose, but don’t lie to me about something I can see with my own eyes.”

"Everything is fine. I'm making something to eat," John said. He still hadn't stopped thinking about that dream, but he tried not to if he was anywhere in Sherlock's line of vision.

Sherlock watched John walk to the kitchen. John’s denial was essentially proof. John could have brushed off his behavior with any explanation, but he didn’t: he denied something they both knew was true. So, Sherlock now had to decide what to do next. He thought for a moment. He got up and moved to the kitchen table, sitting down and staring a hole through the back of John’s head. 

John glanced over his shoulder and sighed. "Don't you have work to do? " he asked.

Sherlock kept staring. “Look at me,” he said.

John's head fell as he took a breath. He turned and faced Sherlock, raising his eyes a bit. "Yes?"

“Keep looking,” Sherlock said. “Are you going to tell me what the problem is or are you just going to behave normally? Those are your two options. Choose one.”

"I am being perfectly normal! You're just . . . imagining things." It took everything in John to keep a straight face – everyone knew that Sherlock Holmes didn't imagine anything. He observed. "Are you eating anything or not?" He turned around again and finished up, bringing his plate to the table and sitting opposite Sherlock. 

Sherlock shook his head but kept his eyes on John. This was a quandary. Normally, he’d just disengage – this felt like a personal problem and personal problems were not Sherlock’s area. But it was now affecting their work. And to be honest, since John had moved in here, Sherlock had changed a little. He’d deliberately decided not to think about it too much because it was a little confusing and unnerving to admit he cared about things like John’s feelings and John’s moods. So instead he kept focused on the fact that it was affecting their work. And something needed to be done.

He reached over and took the sandwich from John’s plate and threw it on the floor.

John saw Sherlock's hand coming closer and he tensed, his cheeks flushing as he thought about where that hand was just hours ago in his dream. But before he could process that information, Sherlock had tossed his sandwich on the ground. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked loudly, getting up to clean up the mess. He hoped the outburst was enough to hide his first reaction. 

“Why should I tell you when you won’t tell me what’s wrong with you?” Sherlock said. When John sat back down, Sherlock looked over at him again. “You’re different and you know it,” he said.

"I mean, even if I was acting differently it doesn't really matter! There's nothing wrong. We have work to do. "

“You’re shouting,” Sherlock said calmly. “You’ve shouted at me two times in the last two minutes. But I guess that doesn’t matter.”

"You threw my sandwich on the ground! Childish behavior deserves shouting."

“All right, John,” Sherlock said. “I’m not going to fight with you. I guess I’ll get started on the case.” He stood up and moved to his desk, grabbing his laptop and then returned to the table. This time he sat next to John, shifting his chair close and sliding his laptop against John's plate. 

John shifted in his seat. "What are you doing? Don't you usually work at your desk?"

“Yes,” Sherlock said, shifting a little closer. “I’m acting differently, but it really doesn’t matter.” He looked straight into John’s eyes.

John pursed his lips. "You . . .ugh," he sighed exasperated. "I had a dream. A sex dream. That's all. It's stupid and embarrassing, and I hope you're proud of yourself."

Sherlock sat back for a second. He moved his laptop in front of him and shut it. Then he smiled. “Wow, John, you do surprise me – for someone who masturbates in the shower 2.7 times a week, I am genuinely shocked this is the first time you’ve had a sex dream. Even I had my first one when I was a teenager,” he said. He looked over with mock concern and added, “Did you have a wet dream? Do you have questions? Don’t feel ashamed – it’s just that your body is changing.” Despite his attempt, he couldn’t help laughing aloud.

"Oh, shut up, you idiot! It was a dream about you,” John said. He pushed back and got up from the table. "Now it's out, and we're moving on."

“About me?” Sherlock asked. He stood up to make some tea, trying to think for a second. “I see, yes, well, that makes more sense. About why you were acting odd, I mean. Well, I hope it wasn’t too upsetting for you.” He brought two mugs over and sat down again. “Did my sexiness scare you?” he added with a cheeky grin.

"No, it didn't scare me. I mean there's no sexiness to scare me," he corrected poorly. "It was just a dream. Drop it."

“That’s rude,” Sherlock said. “Just because you don’t appreciate my sexiness, it doesn’t mean I don’t have it.” He took a sip of tea. “Besides, you liked it last night.” He turned his head and gave John a loving look.

John felt his cheeks warm, and he looked away. "Will you drop it now, please?"

“Fine,” Sherlock said. He finished his tea and took his mug and John’s plate to the sink. As he washed them up, he said, “Actually, if you really want to drop it, it might be worthwhile for you to tell me exactly what I did last night – in your dream, I mean – so I can ensure I don’t accidentally do it in real life.”

The images flashed in John's mind - Sherlock's hands on his hips, his tongue pushing into John's mouth, his body arching into John. He shook his head. "It would never accidentally happen, so you don't have to worry about that." 

Sherlock kept himself from smiling. “All right then,” he said. “Last question and then I promise we need never speak of this again,” he said, leaving a pause too short for John to interrupt and stop him. “What is it about me you find so disgusting?”

"I don't - you're not disgusting," John said. He turned and faced Sherlock. "I just don't . . . I mean, that's not our relationship, is it? We're friends. It was just embarrassing, but it’s not the worst thing," he admitted. "Can we drop it now?"

“All right,” Sherlock said. “New question, though: why is it embarrassing? Because I’m so disgusting?”

"No! Because it's . . . it just is! You have to see why it would be. We're friends - the dream makes it look like I just think about jumping you all the time and I don't!"

“Do you remember last month when you insisted on telling me every detail of a dream you had about living in a zoo? I don’t remember you being worried that I’d think you really wished you were a panda,” Sherlock said. “Of course, that said, your protest has actually made me question if you are actually thinking of ‘jumping’ me all the time. Which is fine, I guess – just make sure to be focused when we’re working on cases, please.”

"I don't feel that way!" John insisted. "It was just a stupid dream!" He leaned back. "And being at the zoo isn't embarrassing."

“Well, I was embarrassed when you told me,” Sherlock said. “No, wait, I don’t mean embarrassed – I mean, bored.” He was enjoying teasing John. And if he was honest, he kind of liked the idea of being in John’s head at night. “Look, clearly this is an issue for you. You always make a fuss about people thinking we’re a couple . . . that’s probably why you dreamt about us shagging – did we actually shag? You don’t have to tell me, I’ll be able to read your face. My point is maybe you’re being influenced by others’ opinions.” He looked over at John directly, just to wind him up.

"I just don't like when people assume things, that's all. It's not because it's . . . bad or anything. But you said you're married to your work and I would think it’d bothered you too that anyone would assume you'd be . . . distracted in that way." He avoided meeting Sherlock's gaze. The truth is that he had no idea what Sherlock was into when it came to anything like this. 

Sherlock laughed. “Oh no, no, no, Doctor Watson – this doesn’t have anything to do with me. I’ll have you know that I am totally into whatever sexual practice occurred in your mind last night, I’ve done it multiple times, and I don’t care if you know it. This is totally about you. If you’re a big prude, that’s fine but don’t pretend that your reaction is about protecting me.”

John flushed and crossed his arms. "I'm not a prude! I'm just not . . . we are friends. Colleagues. We're not . . . it's not like that between us." He forced himself not to think about what Sherlock just said. This was just Sherlock stubbornly messing with him to make him squirm. 

“Fine, we’re friends and colleagues. Also flatmates, which you neglected to mention,” Sherlock teased. “I’m just saying that you are free to dream about me as often as you like, I don’t have a problem with it. Maybe I’ll dream about you tonight and then we’ll be even. If I have a sex dream about you should I keep it to myself? I have thus far – should I continue to keep mum?”

John pushed off of the table. "Now you're just making things up. You haven't dreamt about me and I'm sure I won't again either. It was just random. Trust me, there's no secret desire or want or anything like that. I'll prove it." He moved over to Sherlock and without thinking too much about it, he leaned in and kissed him. John kissed Sherlock hard on the mouth. "See? Nothing," he said. 

He leaned back again and watched Sherlock, every ounce of energy going towards remaining perfectly neutral. Sherlock tasted like tobacco and tea, and John wanted more, but he'd called his own bluff and now all he could do was try to hide his desire and save face. 

Sherlock was surprised, but for some reason, he didn’t want to appear so. He stepped forward. “Is that what we did in your dream?” he asked. He looked John right in the eye. “What else did we do? Show me.”


	3. Dreams Can Come True

John blinked up at Sherlock, regretting trapping himself against the counter. "What?"

“I know we’re just friends," Sherlock said softly. "But . . . that wasn’t so bad, was it?” He reached out and gripped John’s hips.

John's whole body warmed at Sherlock's touch. His mind played back the two of them on Sherlock's chair and based on the look Sherlock was giving him, he was sure his own pupils dilated at the image. "It wasn't . . ." he paused and tried to get his thoughts in order. "I can show you.”

“Only if you want to,” Sherlock said. “Don’t think about before – in this moment, do you want to?”

John held Sherlock's gaze and nodded. His body was getting warmer just thinking about it, his breathing shallow and quick with anticipation. 

“Tell me what I did next,” Sherlock said.

John stood up and took Sherlock's hand, pulling him into the sitting room. He backed Sherlock to his chair and pushed him lightly, so he fell back into it. There was no going back now. 

"We had just come home from solving a case," John said. Just like his dream, he climbed into Sherlock's lap. "I wanted to reward you, you were quite clever."

“Well, see? Your dreams are based on reality,” Sherlock said with a grin as he wrapped an arm around John’s back. “In the dream, what was my reaction to this lap business?”

John smiled. "I was trying to praise you and you made me shut up, so we could kiss instead."

“Real me likes praise more than dream me, so say something flattering first, please.”

"You are brilliant," John said, slowly leaning in closer. 

“I am, aren’t I?” Sherlock said, lifting his hands to John’s head and pulling him down for a kiss. John had been right, of course – they were friends and colleagues, this wasn’t a part of their relationship, but somehow this seemed so natural and easy.

John hummed softly as they kissed again. He moved Sherlock's hands to the zip of his jeans while his own started unbuttoning Sherlock's shirt.

Knowing that this is what had happened in John’s dream made all of this even more exciting to Sherlock. He snapped open the button and slowly unzipped John’s jeans and then stopped. “Let’s go to the bedroom,” he said.

John nodded. "Okay. Yours or mine?" he asked, shifting to get up.

“Yours,” Sherlock said, pulling him up the stairs. He pushed him onto the bed and crawled over him. He slid his hand into John’s jeans, wrapping his fingers around his cock. Then he dipped down and kissed John hungrily.

“In your dream, did my hand move? Slow? Fast?” Sherlock said. “Tell me . . .”

"Slow at first . .. it all happened in your chair," John said. His hands were pushing Sherlock's clothes off, nails scraping over his shoulders and back as they kissed.

“I’m not sure those logistics work well in the real world,” Sherlock said with a smile. He looked down and watched his hand to start to move slowly. He glanced back up. “Like this?” he asked.

John's breath hitched with Sherlock's hand directly on his cock. "Yes," he nodded, lifting his head to look. "I can't reach you very well," he said, curling downwards a bit. He already felt Sherlock against his leg, and it was fueling the heat spreading through his body. 

“I’m in no rush,” Sherlock said. He leaned down and swirled his tongue around John’s nipple.

John arched his back slightly. "I'm not either," he said. He carded his fingers into Sherlock's hair and pulled lightly, eager to find out what he liked.

Sherlock moaned softly. “That’s good,” he said as his hand instinctively sped up. 

"Yeah?" John pulled his hair again, a bit harder. "What else do you like?"

“We’ll see,” Sherlock said. “What did I like last night?”

"I don't know. In my dream we were quick because it was familiar. Now, I want to know every little thing that drives you crazy," he smiled.

“All right then,” Sherlock said. He shifted and lay back on the bed next to John. “My turn,” he said cheekily.

John smiled and climbed over Sherlock to straddle his hips. He started with his hands, moving them over Sherlock's shoulders and chest before leaning down to kiss him.

Sherlock leaned up into the kiss. “I like that,” he mumbled against John’s mouth.

John smiled and kissed over Sherlock's jaw, tugging his hair again to tilt Sherlock's head and continue kissing and biting along his neck. 

Sherlock moaned again. “That feels dangerous,” he whispered.

John grazed his teeth over Sherlock's neck, down to the nape where he bit and sucked a light mark. "And yet here you are," he said softly, smiling against his skin. 

Sherlock laughed aloud. “I knew this was coming from Day One,” he said, lightly pinching John’s side.

“You did not,” John said and pressed a proper kiss on his shoulder before continuing down and swirling his tongue around Sherlock's nipple. 

Sherlock pressed his head against the pillow. He squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them, staring upwards at the ceiling over John’s bed. He’d never looked at it before. “Your bed’s soft,” he said stupidly.

“Good thing that's the only thing," John said, wrapping his fingers around Sherlock's cock and stroking steadily, slow and deliberate.

Sherlock moaned even louder than before. He lifted his head and kissed John’s mouth hard. John moaned into the kiss, keeping it up until they parted for air. His hand moved the whole time, and now with a smirk, he started scooting downwards, pressing kisses along Sherlock's torso.

“John...” Sherlock said in anticipation. His hand reached down to rest on John’s shoulder.

John settled between his legs and licked a long stripe up Sherlock's cock, swirling around the head before taking it into his mouth.

“God, John,” Sherlock said, his voice louder than he’d expected it to be. “I’m going to explode already!” He glanced down and almost laughed at how entirely unexpected this all was. He dropped his head against the pillow and lifted a hand to cover his eyes. “You’re good at that by the way,” he said.

John hummed around his mouthful, lifting away to grin at Sherlock before continuing again. He hollowed his cheeks as he came up, sucking harder at the head. 

Sherlock could feel the tension coiling in his body. He pushed himself up off the bed. “John, come here,” he said. “Come lie beside me – hurry.” His heart was pounding so hard he thought he could hear it.

"Didn't you like it?" John teased as he moved up beside Sherlock.

“Quite the opposite,” Sherlock said, reaching over and tickling John’s thigh before beginning to stroke his cock. “I wasn’t lying – I’m so close. I want to make you come with me.” He leaned in and began sucking the skin on John’s neck.

John bucked into his hand, tilting to find his mouth and kiss him again. His own hand wrapped around Sherlock and matched his speed.

“So good,” Sherlock moaned. His hips rocked with the movement of John’s hand, and it was almost hard to breath. He knew it wouldn’t be long until he did explode and the kiss became even more urgent.

"M'close," John moaned, his hips and breathing both becoming a bit more erratic. 

Suddenly the pleasure was too much for Sherlock. “Yes, John, yes,” he began mumbling as he felt his cock jerk and spill. His hand moved desperately, wanting John to feel this good as well.

John gasped softly and then groaned Sherlock's name as he came, bucking into his hand. His free hand gripped Sherlock's hair and kissed him hard.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, pulling him tight. He could feel that their skin was damp with sweat, their chests heaving together as they tried to catch their breath. After a few minutes, Sherlock whispered, “What trouble have you started, John Watson?”

John smiled and shrugged. "Don't know what you mean," he said. 

“Well, first of all, we’re a mess,” Sherlock said, pulling back but keeping their legs tangled. He pulled the blanket from the side, kind of covering them a little. “Was that what happened in the dream?” he asked.

John nodded. "Yes, but in your chair." He sighed and met Sherlock's gaze. "Have you really dreamt about me? What happened in yours?" 

“I have,” Sherlock admitted. “It was just . . . other things.”

"What other things?" And can we try them soon?" John smiled. 

“No, it wasn’t things like that,” Sherlock said, rolling on his side away from John. “I just sometimes dream about little things, little differences.”

John propped his head up on his arm to keep looking at Sherlock. "Like what?" 

“Like sometimes you slept in here with me, like it was our bed,” Sherlock said quietly. “Or on the sofa while we were watching the television, we . . . you know. . . cuddled.”

John smiled. "We've been wasting time," he said. 

“Maybe,” Sherlock said, turning and curling around John. “You’re stubborn though – it was annoying.”

John laid down normally and cuddled with him. "It's not like you were waiting with open arms," he grumbled. 

“I never locked my bedroom door – you could’ve come in.”

"Married to your work, remember?" He shook his head. "It'll be different now. If you want."

“Is that what you want? Or did you just want to try out your dream?”

"I didn't just want to try it out," he said.

Sherlock smiled. “So do you want to do things like this again?” he asked.

John nodded, closing his eyes and tucking more comfortably into Sherlock. "Yeah. Everything," he said. "Don't you?"

“Of course,” Sherlock said. “I wouldn’t have done any of this if I didn’t.”

"Good. I'm glad we're on the same page," he said. He pressed a kiss on Sherlock's shoulder. 

“I’m glad you had that dream, John,” Sherlock said before yawing and closing his eyes. 

“Me too,” John said. He started to drift off to sleep, wondering what his next dream would be.


End file.
